


Christmas Truth or Dare

by NerdyGrlWonder



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Smut, ichabbie - Freeform, secret santa prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2876354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyGrlWonder/pseuds/NerdyGrlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She cared about Ichabod too much to let him celebrate alone. She had planned on keeping his mind occupied; she just didn’t realize how occupied she would keep him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> this was a Secret Santa gift for our-destinies-entwined on tumblr :-)

Abbie had pulled up to the cabin at the beginning of sunset Christmas night, planning on keeping Ichabod’s mind off of Katrina’s departure and Henry’s disappearance. She didn’t know how but she knew that whatever she did, rum would be involved. She cared about Ichabod too much to let him celebrate alone. She had planned on keeping his mind occupied; she just didn’t realize how occupied she would keep him.

*          *          *

“What was your favorite thing to do on Christmas as a kid, Crane?”

Ichabod smiled, a distant look clouded over his eyes as he thought about his past.

“We’d tell some of the most disturbing ghost stories imaginable. They were terrifying enough to put your favorite _Mama_ to shame.”

Abbie scoffed and made a face. “Ghost stories? Who tells ghost stories on Christmas day?”

“The English have held a long standing tradition of telling ghost stories on the Eve of the holiday.”

Abbie cringed at the thought of hearing the tale of _The Ring_ being told to children as part of Christmas Eve. She couldn’t imagine sending kids to bed with visions of evil things crawling in their heads instead of dancing sugar plums.

“Uh...no. What else you got?” Ichabod grew quiet for a moment as he sat across from Abbie on the floor of the cabin beneath the Christmas tree.

“Games. We’d often play charades to pass the time.” They had already given charades a go once and it didn’t turn out well. She wanted something that would keep him on his toes and hopefully from thinking about Katrina and she thought she had the perfect idea. Grabbing the bottles of rum that she’d brought with her, she shook them at Ichabod.

“Have you ever played truth or dare?”

*          *          *

He watched as Abbie tried everything she could to take his mind off of what she assumed would consume him this holiday. He could see the determination in her eyes to make sure that he enjoyed his Christmas – that he felt needed and loved. How he wished he could tell her that she was all he craved. How he longed to let her know that she had long since made any notion of Katrina fade from his mind. How he yearned to show her just how he planned to worship her.

But he couldn’t. He would never dare to tell her that he was in love with her.

*          *          *

 _When did we finish that bottle of rum?_ Explaining the nuances and point of truth or dare to Ichabod had taken the better part of ten minutes. Once he’d gotten a firm grasp on it however, they were off on a back and forth battle of truth or dare mixed with a decent amount of rum. Out of the three bottles that she had brought with her, they had somehow managed to go through one and half already.

“Truth or dare, Miss Mills?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to…” Ichabod tapped his chin trying to think of something decently embarrassing but nothing over-the-top, “flap your arms and cluck like a chicken.”

Abbie acquiesced, giving it her all. She collapsed in a laughing heap on the floor across from Crane who had doubled over at the sight of her. After taking another hearty sip or rum, it was Abbie’s turn to take control.

“Truth or dare, Crane?”

“Truth.”

“Do you ever think about me when you’re alone?” The question spilled out before Abbie even had a chance to contemplate what she was asking. She sat stunned, looking at the expression on Ichabod’s face which had gone from shocked to distant.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked that. Let me ask you something else inste…”

“Yes.” He said it so softly she wasn’t sure if she imagined his response or if he had actually answered her.

“Wait. Did you just say yes? That you…thought about me?”

“You had your question. I believe it’s my turn now Miss Mills. Truth or dare?”

Abbie sat in stunned silence, shaking her head to clear away the buzz that ran through her brain before she answered. “Truth.”

“Do you think of me Abbie? When you’re alone and in the dark yearning for something that you can’t name; do you think of me?” Ichabod had abandoned his rum. The only thing left to intoxicate him now was Abbie. The scent of her jasmine perfume mixed with the pine from the Christmas tree and the cedar of the cabin – filling his nose and sending him on a sensory overload. He watched a battle ensue on her features; fear, hope and desire clashed for supremacy. He held his breath in anticipation of her answer.

Abbie closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at him. Should she tell him that she would often wake up in the middle of the night with her hand between her legs, imagining that her fingers were his stroking her until her body hummed?

Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again if he knew how often she had thought about his beard scraping her skin as he lavished each of her breasts with his lips? Could she tell him how she had imagined riding him – his one hand cupping her ass while the other rubbed her clit, making them both scream as she felt him come inside of her?

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol making her this bold or the fact that this moment was a long time coming but it didn’t matter. She had started this line of questioning and she was determined to finish it. “Constantly.”

Ichabod’s breathing became more shallow and rapid and his lips parted and he stared at her from across the small space between them. He could see a flush creep up her neck to her cheeks and he wished that he could kiss its trail.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

If she asked this, they would be past the point of no return. There wouldn’t be any turning back for them, but she was willing to take the chance.

“What are you doing to me when you think of me Ichabod?”

His name falling from her lips sent shivers throughout him. They so rarely called each other by name that each moment was like a silky kiss across the skin. He could feel his prick begin to strain against his pants and judging from the look on her face and how she licked her lips, Abbie could as well. He ran his hands up and down his thighs slowly, drawing her eyes to his body.

“That depends. There are times when I close my eyes and I am simply holding you, kissing the line of your elegant neck and nibbling your ear. Other times, your legs are wrapped tightly around my waist and I thrust into your silky wet sex, making you climb higher and higher in ecstasy.”

Ichabod watched as Abbie’s lids fluttered, he breath hitching at his descriptions, her hands wandering seemingly of their own volition across her body. Her lips parted and he watched jealously as her tongue darted out to taste them.

“There are times still when my head is buried at your apex, determined to lap and suck every ounce of you that I can until I hear you scream my name and feel you shudder around my fingers.”

Abbie was strung tighter than a bow. She had fantasized about the feel of Ichabod next to her, on her and in her – but she never thought he would ever return the sentiment. Hearing him explain in lurid detail what he wanted to do to her set fire to her blood. She wanted to lung across the empty rum bottles and presents and touch every part of him until she had him memorized but she held back. After all, this was just a game, right?

Clearing his throat and ever so slowly adjusting himself in front of her, knowing that she would watch his hands as they moved, it was his turn to ask: “Truth or dare, Abbie?”

“Dare” she whispered, barely able to contain herself.

“I dare you to come and let me show you how I’ve thought about you.”

 


End file.
